


contact point

by letsgetalittleseethrough



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Violinist!Sherlock, lecturer!Jim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26343649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgetalittleseethrough/pseuds/letsgetalittleseethrough
Summary: “You’re going on a date?”Sherlock nods. John looks at him like he’s announced he’s got a job at Build A Bear.“He’s a university lecturer,” Sherlock offers. “Maths.” It’s a deduction, but a correct one, of that he’s certain. And then: “I think I’ve been looking for him all my life.”It’s not a lie. Sherlock really has been looking for Jim all of his life. Just not in the way John is now imagining.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> contact point = the explicit part of the bow hair which touches the string.

The visible-underwear/ “ _Hey_ ”/ “Here’s my number” routine nearly went utterly unnoticed. 

He misses things, sometimes, deliberately, if he knows they’re of no consequence. Men or women showing romantic interest definitely fell into that category - relationships have never appealed, and he has no reason to think that’ll ever change. 

And then Jim had looked at him like he knew him - _like he knew something that Sherlock didn’t_ \- and, admittedly, that _had_ caught his interest. 

_Who are you?_ is the first thing Sherlock texts, as ever seeing no point in polite, meaningless small talk. 

Less than a minute later a message comes through: **I’m someone you’ve been looking for.**

And then: **That’s a line, if you want it to be. But really. I think you want me in your life. Jim Moriarty... I’ve heard a lot about you.**

Sherlock stares at the coloured bubbles of Jim’s messages, mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour like Ferrari car tires stuck in mud. 

Five minutes go by. He’s mulling things over, pros and cons, advantages and disadvantages. Emotions float by like children’s lost balloons. Intrigue. Wariness. Hope.

_Let’s meet. I take it you have no lectures on weekends?_

Ten minutes go by. Sherlock huffs, glares at John when he dares walk by to go into the kitchen. 

**You’re clever. But I already knew that. I’m free Wednesday night. Or is that when you rehearse?**

Sherlock smiles a small smile, despite the fact that his status as a member of one of London’s most famous orchestras isn’t exactly a well kept secret - if you took the time to look, or care. 

_I’m free then._

**No you’re not.**

Again, Sherlock weighs up his response. Settles on: _You’re more important._

Risky, yes. But he has to play the game right...

**Oh, I** **_am_ ** **flattered. Wednesday it is.**

Then (and Sherlock had almost been expecting it): **It’s a date, Sherlock.**


	2. Chapter 2

He gets another message two days later: 

**I’ve made a reservation.**

And he _could_ reply “ _Thank you_ ”, or “ _Where?_ ”, but that’s not how he wants to play things. He thinks it isn’t how Jim wants to play things, either. 

If Jim is who Sherlock thinks he is, that is. It’s been so long - and he’d never put a name to the face, back then. Just figured him out, and kept quiet about it. 

He wonders what they’ll talk about, on this “date”, feels something almost like excitement at the thought of it, and then puts his phone back down, before immediately picking it up again, feeling stupid for giving in and doing so. 

The text tone rings out, and his eyes dart to the screen: 

A photo of the ground. Newly tarmacked, which, assuming Jim’s sticking with London… 

There are potholes in roads all across London - so theoretically that doesn’t narrow things down. All across London… including the road the grimy, seemingly-perpetually-closed Japanese place two streets down from Baker Street faces. Brand new, that one. Appeared two days ago.

Sherlock pauses, contemplating. At first, he’s disappointed - how _easy._ But the idea that Jim knows where he lives, knows where he’d instantly recognise… now he feels something close to flattered. 

Another text tone: **Don’t be late. I’m sure you get distracted with that brain of yours.**

And of course, he still has to work out what time Jim will arrive. It takes a good few seconds. After a minute of rereading Jim's messages, he locks his phone, finally puts it down. It won’t do any good to start obsessing. 

Jim could very well be a disappointment. Oh, but Sherlock hopes- 

\---

_Wednesday_

“Going somewhere?” 

Sherlock freezes for a millisecond, and then resumes putting on his coat. “Hmm.” 

John gives what he probably imagines is an encouraging look. “Anywhere nice?” he presses. 

Sherlock weighs things up for a second. “He picked the location.” 

John blinks, and then boggles. “You’re going on a _date? "_

Sherlock nods. John looks at him like he’s announced he’s got a job at Build A Bear.

“He’s a university lecturer,” Sherlock offers. “Maths.” It’s a deduction, but a correct one, of that he’s certain. And then: “I think I’ve been looking for him all my life.”

It’s not a lie. Sherlock really has been looking for Jim all of his life. Just not in the way John is now imagining.

John blinks, eyes comically wide, and then blows out air. “Strewth. Well… good lu- _have fun_ , I mean. Have fun.” A pause, and Sherlock rolls his eyes in anticipation- “And stay safe-”

“I’ll return in one piece, probably,” Sherlock mutters, and then he’s yanking the door open before John can even open his mouth. 

\---

Jim raises a brow at the sight of him. 

“ _What?_ ” It comes out snappy. Jim’s noticed, of course he has-

“Yesterday’s shirt.” He tuts as Sherlock sits down at the table. “You didn’t want me to think you’d chosen your outfit especially.” Playful eyes hold Sherlock’s gaze. Jim picks an imaginary piece of lint off Sherlock’s shirt, smile widening as Sherlock doesn’t flinch at the touch. When he speaks next, his voice is sing-song: “But you did, all the same…” 

Sherlock doesn’t reward him with a response, thinking to himself: _He’s wearing a new shirt, designer. Washed it before he wore it, thought of all the other ordinary fingers that might have touched it. Same cologne as last time - signature. Washed his hair last night because it doesn’t hold a style when it’s too clean. He actually has the intention of eating here-_

“Don’t let appearances put you off. This place is authentic." 

Sherlock just stares. Jim smiles back. 

"You're not going to ask me how I knew what time to arrive?"

Jim's face twitches. _Amusement_ , Sherlock thinks. "Show off if you want." He leans forward. "I'm listening…" 

Sherlock takes a breath, and then the words pour out: "The day we met, you looked at your watch as you walked away. A 2007 Andersen Geneve - subtle. You held your wrist at an angle so I'd notice." Jim's smiling now, eyes glittering. "6:03pm. So here I am." 

"You don't miss a thing." It's almost sarcastic, but Sherlock detects an undercurrent of… respect. Jim picks up the menu, but doesn't even pretend to study it. "What are you ordering?" Eyes flicker up to his. "Or can I order for you? That's what people do on dates, isn't it?" 

"I wouldn't know." 

Jim's mouth curls into another smile, waiting. 

"Go ahead," Sherlock tells him, and Jim does. 


End file.
